The Perfect Woman
by skysedge
Summary: In which Francel thinks girls are gross and Haurchefant has other ideas.


It was one of those afternoons where Haurchefant held a storm in his eyes. Francel felt that he was becoming a professional at dealing with his best friends erratic mood swings, putting them down to his being a teenager now and hoping that he didn't go mad himself when the time came. Keeping a cool head, the younger boy had led his friend to a half-destroyed wall a short way out from town and forced him to sit down.

"So what do you want to do today?" he asked, expecting the day to follow the usual pattern. He only hoped their adventure didn't involve the icy lakes this time; he was still sniffling from their last dip into the water a week before.

"I don't _get_ it."

Not rising to Francel's encouragement as he normally would, Haurchefant kicked his heels irritably against the wall and glared out towards the roofs in the distance.

"Don't get what?"

"The whole marriage thing."

This was woefully non-descriptive coming from Haurchefant and so Francel refrained from answering, scuffing his own heels against the stone until his friend continued of his own volition.

"Why would you marry someone if they weren't the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?"

 _Ah._ As was so often the case, it seemed the countess was to blame for his ill humour. Francel knew he would never be able to understand how it felt to be in Haurchefant's position, but he felt bad for his friend and always had. It was the sort of problem that his mind wouldn't be able to grasp fully until he was older, but he felt the sting still.

"I don't know," he said in a casual tone. "We're too young for that, anyway."

"You might be, but I'm not," Haurchefant said bravely, thrusting out his chin. "And growing up just seems to make you _stupid."_

 _"_ Your father's a good man," Francel said in a quietly reproachful tone.

Haurchefant deflated at that, abandoning his posturing and returning to kicking the wall with vicious jabs. They sat in silence a while and Francel tried to think of something he could do to distract the other boy. He'd jump back into the stupid cold water if it stopped him looking so sad. It was weird when Haurchefant wasn't ranting or raving about something. Silence just didn't suit him at all.

As if hearing the younger boy's thoughts, Haurchefant perked up all of a sudden. He turned to Francel with a wide grin, devilry shining in his eyes.

"What sort of woman do you want to marry?"

Francel stared, cheeks flushing scarlet.

"What?"

"You haven't thought about it at all?"

Francel mostly associated girls with being taller than him, looking down on him for not being a fighter and for asking weird questions. Girls were _gross._ Not that he'd admit that to anyone. He wasn't a kid, after all.

"No!" he protested. "Why would I have?"

"Well, you _are_ still a child," Haurchefant decided, swinging an arm around Francel's shoulders and giving a loud laugh. "I guess you're not ready."

"You're not grown up either!"

"But whatever, it doesn't matter if you don't know," Haurchefant continued, ignoring him. "You should start thinking about it, though."

"Do _you_ know?" Francel asked, trying hard not to sulk.

"Of course I do."

Haurchefant pushed himself away from the wall using a sharp kick with his heels and landed in the snow before Francel. He was grinning, eyes wide but not seeing what was in front of him. He reached down and grabbed a frozen branch, brandishing it towards Francel like a sword.

"She's going to be strong," he said firmly. " _Really_ strong. The strongest woman that Eorzea has ever known. She'll be unbeatable."

He swung the branch around in an arc, scattering shards of ice, before holding it high over his head and staring up into the white glow of a cloud-covered sun.

"And she's going to be good, and just. It doesn't matter where she comes from, or what she believes in, she's just going to do the right thing no matter what other people tell her."

Watching his friend with a bemused smile, Francel shrugged.

"Don't you want her to be pretty? That's what all the adults talk about."

"Not like _that,_ " Haurchefant said in an offended tone. "I don't care what she looks like. She'll be beautiful because of _who_ she is and how she acts."

Spinning around in another mock attack, Haurchefant came to a stop facing away from Francel, raising a hand to brush the silver hair from his eyes.

"She'll be a hero," he said quietly. "So I need to get really strong so that she falls in love with me."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Of course I do. Stupid."

Francel laughed, just glad to see his friend acting as crazy as usual.

"You should start praying to Menphina, then."

"I won't," Haurchefant argued. "I'll keep praying to Halone. She's not going to be a lover, my wife. She's going to be a Fury."

Standing up, Francel stepped forward and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, forcing Haurchefant to turn around. The older boy wore a faraway smile.

"Someone like that doesn't exist," Francel said gently. "And marriage is all rubbish anyway. You have better things to do, like slaying dragons and saving people. That sort of thing."

"She might not exist _yet_ ," Haurchefant insisted. "But she will. And I'll be ready, when she does. Yeah, slaying dragons and saving people. That sort of thing."

He dropped the branch and slapped Francel on the shoulder, sending the smaller boy a few inches deeper into the snow.

"Want to go look for people to save?" Haurchefant asked.

Knowing this meant tramping around in the snow and play fighting with sticks, maybe chasing a karakul if they were lucky, Francel nodded in relief glad to be ending the strange conversation.

"Yes. You better hurry up, if you want to impress this unbeatable woman of yours."

"You just watch."

Giving Francel a final grin, Haurchefant took to his heels and led the way into the cover of the nearby trees that promised another day filled with adventure and dreams.

 **A/N:** _ **Inspired by the Tales from the Dragonsong War. Because I am a sucker for foreshadowing and childhood/coming of age rambling. Also because baby-Haurchefant seems like a little shit. Poor Francel.**_ __


End file.
